


Suns Like Silver

by Ahrotahn (Tatpurusha)



Category: Myst Series
Genre: Ancient D'ni, history-as-science, untergang des abendlandes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tatpurusha/pseuds/Ahrotahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret D'ni projects seeks to understand the dysfunction in the Late Kingdom period by studying the historical records of advanced civilizations on other ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suns Like Silver

I could see the glow from the water just starting to swing back to “daylight” when I came to the offices of the Guild of Analysts. The squat building menaced the lakeshore with its antique architectural style, all sixty-degree angles and colored-stone insets. Most people in the neighborhood, not the most sophisticated to ever live, regarded it as an eyesore, but the official position of the Monarchy was that it was An Historical Building and thus could not be significantly renovated. The current Guildmaster, in a bid to improve relations with the surrounding population, had come out in favor of redoing the façade in a less garish style, but it was my sense that this was just for show. The harlequin guild-hall would stand for all eternity.

Today was the first day of Project Outsider, and everyone who was going to be on the project was ordered to report for briefing at one hour after dawn. I prided myself on always being early to these things. We weren’t told much about the project other than it involved the Guild of Writers, was secret, and came from the camarilla of the D’ni state. The briefing was held in a small room with a few stone benches and a podium in the front. In the front stood a royal lictor in a black cloak: the rumors must have been correct about the involvement of the Arch on this project. I saw the Guildmaster come in, his orange cloak uncharacteristically clean, and walk right past the lictor and the podium and sit next to me on the bench in the front. By his gestures I was made to understand that I ought to take a seat further back. A few more guild-members came in, some from Linguists, from Cartographers, but the overwhelming majority from Writers, Analysts, and Maintainers. The room started to be quite packed. I looked up through the open ceiling at a huge stalactite and was rewarded with a drop of water in the eye.

Soon, the very junior guildsmen were forced out of the room and into the hallway. A second lictor showed up and closed the door in their faces, over their protests, explaining that the matter was too sensitive to risk having outsiders overhear and thus they would just have to learn what happened later. Finally, I heard silence travel down the hall and, flanked by two more lictors, entered King Rikooth himself into our conference room.

Most of us stood up immediately when he entered; those who remained seated did so purely out of surprise. They say that when humans see something entirely unexpected, they simply pretend that it doesn’t exist. On a few missions of my own into Ages, I had tested this principle myself: despite my rather loud orange guild-cloak, wandering into some stone-age village on an unimaginably distant world would often provoke no surprise whatsoever, presumably because a presence as outrageous as my own was simply unimaginable.

The lictor who had been standing there the whole time pounded on the podium and announced “His Majesty, by the grace of Yahvo, King of the D’ni, Lord of a Million Worlds.” Now Rikooth was not a particularly imposing man, always seeming to have a slight smile on his face. His high forehead had only become higher since he had started his reign, and now only a few wisps of white hair attended the royal brow. He wore a simple, pure white tunic and carried none of the accouterments of office. Although legally entitled to a particolored cloak that was, technically speaking, hideous, Rikooth often forwent it in favor of an undyed cloak, which had become the unofficial symbol of the Monarchy over the past century or so. In a society as wealthy as D’ni, that kind of extreme simplicity was a status symbol.

“Guildsmen,” he began, and we were all seated. “We can no longer pretend that the cavern is not in political crisis. I have been king two centuries already and I have seen matters which in my youth were merely intolerable turn deadly. The religious and political tension throughout the cavern is perhaps suggestive of some kind of terminal decline, Yahvo forbid.” A pregnant pause. Was the king speaking extemporaneously? “Guildsmen, let me let you in a secret only known to higher-ups in the Guild of Writers. To those higher-ups, some of whom I see before today, I apologize for betraying your trust.” Rikooth flashed what I am sure he meant to be a winning smile. “There is a secret rule that new Ages cannot contain advanced civilizations. I know you were told in the creche that it was impossible for advanced civilizations to develop outside of the various descendants of the Ronay, but that is simply untrue. We do not write links to advanced civilizations for fear that they will take the Art and compete with us. I think you will all agree that this is a sound policy.

“But there are no rules without exceptions, as the old saw goes. In this case I have decided to make an exception to this rule. The first phase of Project Outsider was to write twenty-five Ages that do in fact contain advanced civilizations, the most advanced, the better. Fortunately, the knowledge of how to achieve this effect has been preserved.” Rikooth gestured to a very-senior-looking Writer seated on the front bench. “Guild Captain Airem has been most useful in this regard. At any rate, as the first phase does not involve any Guilds beside Writers, there would be no point in calling you all here today in the Guild of Analysts to discuss the Project. Therefore, let me announce that the first stage of Project Outsider stands complete. Glory to the Writers.

“The objective of Project Outsider is to analyze the morphology of human civilizations. With our Art, we are uniquely suited to research this particular field of knowledge. I commissioned this project in order to discover how to prevent various disasters from occurring to our beloved cavern.” Another attempt at a smile. “Guildsmen, Project Outsider aims at nothing less than a new science of history. We are now moving Project Outsider to Phase Two. The most senior Guildsmen in this hall already know what it entails, but permit me to review. We will be sending teams of Analysts into the twenty-five Ages to retrieve the already-written records of the civilizations present. This will require learning the local languages of each of the civilizations and translating all relevant documents into D’ni. To this end, we have selected, irrespective of seniority, those Analysts and members of other Guilds who have shown the best aptitude for language.

“I must return to the Palace. I will let the official project leader, Lictor Naiahm, brief you on the details. Again, Glory to the Writers and congratulations to everyone who made Phase One a success.” The king sort of hobbled off of the dais and, three of the four lictors following him, exited. The assembled were too dazed by the king’s poor performance to say anything and we sat there in silence, watching our head of state leave our collective presence. As the door opened, I could see the faces of the junior Guildsmen peering into the room. They had clearly been listening at the door, or trying to— stone makes for a poor sound conductor.

One of the lictors who had come in with the king now stood at the podium. “Some of you may be asking what happened to the previous project leader, Lictor Yahparah.” Naiahm paused, but did not answer his own question. “We are entering Phase Two. Every person in this room will personally participate in Phase Two. Each of the twenty-five ages will be assigned a team. Each team will consist of twelve Analysts plus a support staff. Each support staff will consist of at least two senior Maintainers, one senior Linguist, one Archivist, two senior Surveyors, and between five and ten junior Maintainers. Additionally, each team will have a second ‘home base’ support of between ten and fifteen Writers, Caterers, Healers, and other people who may, Yahvo forbid, be needed if something goes wrong. This ‘home’ support team will also help Analysts understand the structure of the ages before deployment.

“We oughtn’t assume that this is going to be at all safe. The Maintainers have certified each Age as being physically stable, but many of the civilizations are undergoing obvious political instabilities. Several Maintainers on Phase One missions have met their ends at the hands of the ahrotahntee in the Project Outsider Ages. Unfortunately, we don’t have a way of dealing with such instabilities. Discovering such a way is, after all, the very objective of Project Outsider. Therefore, you are going to have be light on your feet and learn the local languages quickly.

“In lieu of any particular names for the Ages, which will be sealed in a vault after the completion of the Project, we have simply assigned them numbers one through twenty-five. You may have noticed that this conference room has the numeral ‘one’ on the outside. Along this corridor are close to forty conference rooms similar to this one, usually used by the Guild of Analysts but all of which have been commandeered by the Project. Your home rooms will correspond to the Age number. Please take out your summons.”

I removed the scrap of paper from a pocket. “You’ll notice,” Naiahm continued, “that there is a number written in the upper right of each summons.” Twenty-three. “This is your team number. You will be assigned to that team and that world. As the conditions on each world vary dramatically, I cannot give you any more specific advice. Each team will be lead by a senior Analyst, who already know who they are.” Naiahm scrunched up his forehead. “Many of the worlds have unfamiliar diseases on them. The scouting missions have identified cures, treatments, or preventive measures for each world. As a safety precaution, you will each be furnished with a linking book to a quarantine room located in the basement of the Guild of Healers. Quarantine lasts for one month after getting back.”

Suddenly, Naiahm looked quite intense. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that under no conditions are you to engage in any behavior which will lead to the acquisition of blood-borne or sexually-transmitted diseases. As you are all grown men, I trust you know what behaviors I speak of. If you have a lapse in judgment, you are required to report it while still in quarantine. The people selected for this project are the only ones qualified alive today. Reporting such problems therefore cannot result in your removal from the project.

“I suppose I have to open the floor for questions.”

A relatively junior Maintainer stood up in the back. “How did the Maintainers die?”

Naiahm looked like he had just been interrupted on the toilet. “The ahrotahntee killed them.”

“With what?”

“Weapons. In one case, the Maintainer was mistaken for a political enemy and beaten to death. Some of the deaths were accidental when using unfamiliar technology.”

“Weapons?”

“Next question.”

An Analyst named Prahdetsmahrg— “Prah”— stood up next. “Are the ahrotahntee aware of the nature of the D’ni or of the Art? What happened to the linking books?”

“All the linking books were recovered or destroyed. Medical examinations of the deceased Maintainers may have revealed information.”

“Information?”

“Next question.”

The questions continued this way for about an hour, and then Naiahm abruptly left the room without declaring an end to the briefings. Somebody shouted over the murmurs that everyone should report to their briefing rooms.


End file.
